


Scrapes & Bruises

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from amazingjemma: "Every time I get in a fight you patch me up but now I’m the one patching you up after your tripped on thin air."</p><p>Or, the four times that Jemma patches up Fitz's scrapes and bruises, and the one time he patches up hers. </p><p>A College!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scrapes & Bruises

(One.) 

It’s the third week of college, and Fitz is still getting used to having friends. Jemma texted him on the way back from the store, where she went to pick up snacks for their movie night. Her roommate Skye had taped the lock open, and every time rule-abiding Jemma Simmons tried to take the tape off, it was promptly replaced. 

It’s a short walk from his room to hers, and he settles in on her bed with his laptop as he tries to get around the IP block for torrenting websites. She really wants to watch a movie that’s still in theaters, and they’re both exchange students on a pretty tight budget. 

The door swings open and he glances up with a smile, expecting his bright and shiny new English friend. Instead, a broad-shouldered man a couple years older than him stands in the doorway, looking quite surprised to see Fitz there. 

“What the hell are you doing in my girlfriend’s room?” the man barks. Fitz’s eyes go wide. Jemma had never mentioned a boyfriend before. Sure, a lot of guys had been making eyes at her and he’s pretty sure she made out with a stranger at the one party they’d gone to the weekend before, but she’d never, ever mentioned a boyfriend. 

“Your—your girlfriend?” 

The man hauls Fitz up from the bed and slams him up against the door before he can react. 

“I knew this was gonna happen,” he growls. Fitz hardly has time to flinch before Jemma’s boyfriend punches him square in the face. He’s vaguely embarrassed of the whimper that comes out of him, but he’s also in too much pain to understand what’s happening. 

He finally thinks to at least try to get away, and manages to grab onto the unlocked door and flee. Fitz stumbles into the hallway, pressing his hand against his cheek and tasting blood in his mouth from biting on his own tongue. 

“Christ,” he mutters, just as he hears Jemma come out from the elevator. 

“Fitz!” she says brightly. Then he turns to look at her, and her entire countenance changes. “Oh my God! What’s happened?” 

Fitz glares at her. “Apparently your boyfriend wasn’t a fan of you having some bloke in your room.” 

Jemma’s jaw drops. “Excuse me, my what?” 

She drops her grocery bag and swings open the door to her room, backing up when she sees the angry man standing there with clenched fists. 

“Who the hell are you?” she demands, stepping up to him. 

The man glowers at her. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

“I live here!” she exclaims indignantly. “And you’ve just punched my best friend!” 

Fitz feels his heart speed up a little bit. He’s only known her a few weeks, and she’s already calling him her best friend; he’s never been anyone’s best friend before. He’s also a little bit pleased that this man is apparently not Jemma’s boyfriend. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. “I thought this was Skye’s room.” 

“She also lives here,” Jemma sasses. “You know, given that there’s two beds and all, it’s rather well-equipped for multiple residents.” 

“D’you—know where Skye is?” he asks awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. 

Jemma rolls her eyes. “She’s meeting with her faculty mentor. If you’re here to see her, you can go wait in the lobby. We’re going to be watching a movie.” 

He introduces himself as Grant, apologizes awkwardly to Fitz, and then he’s gone. Jemma immediately drags him into her room and begins fussing. His cheeks flush as she gently brushes her fingers over his cheekbone, and he tries to ignore the flutter in his stomach that arises from her close proximity.

“Oh, Fitz,” she murmurs. “You poor thing.” 

She retrieves some ice from the machine down the hall and wraps it in an old t-shirt of hers. When his hand gets tired from holding it, she holds it up herself. She even lets him put chocolate in their popcorn while they watch their movie, and when they’ve gotten through watching a second movie and it’s nearly midnight, she places a gentle kiss on the blossoming bruise on his face. 

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t mind getting punched in the face. 

(Two.) 

It’s Jemma’s twenty-first birthday, and he’s perched on the edge of his seat as she twirls around Skye, her bright pink drink threatening to spill on the floor. 

“Fitz!” she squeals. “Come dance with me!” 

He shakes his head and gives her a little grimacing smile, which earns him a roll of her eyes but she still beams back anyway. 

“She’s something else,” Trip laughs warmly. A few months ago, that would have made Fitz’s jaw clench so hard that his headache would last for days. But ever since Trip started dating Skye, his dislike for the other man had waned. 

“She really is,” Fitz agrees as Jemma takes a shot that Bobbi hands to her. “I’m not looking forward to dragging her home tonight, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“So what’s the deal with you two?” Trip asks suddenly. “I mean, you guys practically live together, you do everything together, you finish each other’s sentences—“ 

“She’s my best friend in the world,” Fitz admits easily, shrugging. He doesn’t need to follow it up with anything else because no matter what weird feelings he’s developed for her in recent months, she’s first and foremost his best friend. His first best friend. 

As the night wears on, Fitz knocks back a few more drinks with Trip and Hunter, and keeps a careful eye on Jemma. She eventually drags him up to play a game of pool. She makes her big doe eyes at him and asks him to teach her how to make a better shot and he’s pretty sure that his entire body lights on fire when he has to wrap his arms around her to line up the pool cue. 

She wanders off again after pecking him on the cheek, alarmingly close to his mouth, and makes her way to the bar for another fruity beverage. 

He watches her go with a small smile, hoping she doesn’t teeter over on the heels that Bobbi wriggled her into. Fitz quickly looks away when some frat guy approaches her, leaning on the bar and tugging at the end of her curls. She gives him an annoyed glare and tries to get the bartender’s attention, but then the frat guy flicks the plastic tiara perched on her head and Fitz groans. She’s been very protective of the tiara since her third martini. 

“Excuse you!” Jemma nearly shouts. “You can’t just—just mess with a lady’s crown, sir!” 

“Ooh, you’re a proper English lady then,” he leers, stepping closer into her space. He sees Trip and Hunter eying the situation wearily from where they sit with their respective girlfriends. 

“You know, lady’s can’t start fights but they can finish them,” Jemma pouts. Fitz involuntarily barks out a laugh because only his Jemma would drunkenly quote a Disney movie in her efforts to be intimidating. His laughter melts away as the other man grabs her around the waist. 

“Aw, c’mon, Princess. I’ve got a gift I know you’ll like.” 

He smashes his lips against hers and Jemma struggles in his grip. He doesn’t even think as he runs to the bar and yanks the guy backward, socking him in the face. 

“Ah, fuck!” he yells, shaking out his hand. “That bloody hurts!” 

Then the frat guys are descending on him, and Trip and Hunter are leaping up to help him deal with the melee that’s ensuing. The bartender, a hulking guy named Mack who gets along well with all of them, quickly puts an end to the entire thing. 

But that’s how he ends up siting on Jemma’s bathroom counter as she stands between his legs, heels long forgotten. She lightly (albeit clumsily) dabs at his face with peroxide and coos at him about being the hero. 

He can’t even pretend that he doesn’t like it. Especially when she insists that he sleep over, just so she can make sure he doesn’t have a head injury. 

(Three.) 

Skye and Trip, in their typical way, throw a rager when they move in together after graduation. Trip invites all of his pre-med friends, and Skye’s ragtag team of strange companions rounds out the loud and boisterous group playing drinking games in their new kitchen. 

He finds Jemma easily, chatting with Bobbi and Hunter with a red cup in her hand. He hasn’t seen her in nearly a month, and it’s the longest they’ve ever been apart. She spins around when Hunter shouts his name, and the look on her face nearly blinds him. She shoves her drink into Bobbi’s hand and bolts for him, colliding with his chest and causing him to stumble backward as he chuckles warmly into her hair. 

“Hey you,” he mumbles. “Long time no see.” 

“Never again,” she sighs dramatically, squeezing him tighter. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you, too,” he tells her sincerely, mustering up all of his courage to drop a kiss to her forehead. “How’s your new job?” 

She huffs. “Dull. They have me working on the most menial tasks. Not exactly what I imagined, but I guess everyone has to do their time, right?” 

He gives her an encouraging smile. “Exactly. You’re gonna make a great reporter one day.” 

Jemma beams at him and grasps his hand in hers so that she can drag him to the card table that Trip and Skye are using as a makeshift bar. 

“I’ll make you some Jemma Juice!” 

He groans. “No, no, no. That shit is basically Gatorade and moonshine, Jemma.” 

She smirks at him. “It’s not Gatorade.” 

“And yet that’s not my problem with the drink,” he teases. She makes him some anyway, and he still drinks it even though just three sips of it makes his legs tingle. He’s never refused Jemma anything, and after spending the last month in Scotland with his family, he’s pretty sure his weakness for her has only grown worse. 

Within a few hours, Fitz, Jemma, Hunter, Bobbi, and even Skye are hiding in the bedroom while Trip tries to get rid of the massive influx of strangers that have taken over his home. Fitz finally gives in to his need to go to the bathroom, even though he’s loathe to leave Jemma’s gentle hands running through his hair as he leans between her knees on the floor. 

On his way down the hallway, he suddenly notices someone he doesn’t recognize leaving with Skye’s laptop. Not only is it technically her livelihood, it’s also one of her most prized possessions even though he’s tried to talk her into upgrading to a newer model a hundred times. 

“Hey!” he shouts, chasing the man out of the house. “Give that back!” 

The man starts running, and Fitz is nearly out of breath when he finally tackles him into the grass. It’s his third fight, and Fitz vaguely registers that the women in his life have been the cause of all of them. The important thing is that he eventually gets the computer back, even though he walks away with bloody knuckles and a sliced lip. 

When he gets back to the house, the party has finally dispersed. He throws Skye’s laptop down on her bed as he pants from the exertion, feeling suddenly very sober. 

“Fitz!” Jemma gasps, her cold hands immediately rising to his face. She runs a thumb over his lip and he winces, which causes her to frown. “We need to get you cleaned up.” 

“Come with us,” Bobbi tells him. “We’re gonna head home anyway and we’re right down the street.” 

Jemma nods in agreement, and he finds himself sitting on Jemma’s bed while she tends to his wounds one again. She gently wraps some gauze around his knuckles and he notices that her hands are shaking. 

“Jemma? You okay?” 

She nods unconvincingly, and he stills her hands until she looks up at him reluctantly. “I just don’t like to see you hurt.” 

“I’m alright,” he tells her. “Promise. I’ll be good as new in no time.” 

She smiles at him and runs a hand through his curls; he hopes she doesn’t notice him shiver. “Skye and I have caused a lot of trouble for you, haven’t we?” 

He smirks at her and shakes his head. “Worth it.” 

And it really is, he thinks, as she lies down beside him with Friends playing in the background on her television. She’s already fallen asleep after her murmured insistence that he stay with her. Just in case he has a head injury.

He doesn’t bother to tell her that even if he did have a head injury, she can’t monitor him when he’s asleep. Instead, he scoots down onto the bed beside her and lets his dreams take him. 

Four. 

A few weeks after his third fight, he’s walking through the park with Jemma on their lunch break. She’d been thrilled when he started working for the city government right across the street from the newspaper’s office, and had insisted that they have a picnic to celebrate on his first day. He pretends like he doesn’t know exactly what she has in her basket. 

They’ve almost reached the tree near the fountain that he just knows she’s going to pick, and he looks over at her to shoot her a knowing grin. 

Her cheeks suddenly flush and she bites her lip as she grins back—and then she’s on the ground. 

“Shit!” he exclaims, kneeling down beside her. “Jemma, what the hell?” 

“I tripped,” she breathes, even more red than she had been before. “Whoops!” 

He rolls his eyes at her and grasps her hands. “You’re all scraped, you silly bird.” 

“If I’m a bird, you’re a bird,” she says cheekily. He huffs at her as he grabs a water bottle from his satchel to rinse off the little scrapes on her palms. 

“Y’know, Hunter teared up a little bit, too. Ryan Gosling is national treasure, I’m man enough to admit that.” 

“Of course you are,” Jemma giggles. Then her face becomes serious as he focuses on cleaning her up. “You’re always the hero.” 

He glances up at her and finds her staring at him intently. 

“Jemma?” 

She suddenly leans forward and presses her lips tentatively to his own. His breath hitches and he does his best not to squeeze her injured hands. It’s over entirely too soon, and she looks up at him with nervous eyes as she leans back again. 

“Is that okay?” she whispers. 

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “I’ve only been head over heels for you since I was eighteen, so yeah—I guess it’s okay.” 

She smiles like the sun and leans into him again. He deepens the kiss and revels in the small, breathless little noise she makes before he remembers that they’re in the middle of a public park on the ground. 

“We can continue this later,” he mumbles against her lips. His stomach grumbles and she laughs. 

“C’mon, then. I’ve got your prosciutto and mozzarella.” 

“With pesto aioli?” Fitz nearly cheers, helping her up gingerly. 

“Just a hint.” 

He can’t help himself from pressing another kiss to her upturned mouth. He’s pretty sure he never wants to stop. 

(Bonus)

He doesn’t find out why Jemma fell that day until two years later, when Skye is standing with a glass of champagne in her hand at their rehearsal dinner. 

“These two crazy kids have always been meant to be,” Skye tells all of their closest friends and family. “And even though no man on earth is good enough for my favorite princess Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz is as good as it gets. Hell, the poor guy took a punch for me during the third week of college.” 

This earns a laugh from those who know the story and perplexed smiles from those who don’t, but she pushes on anyway. 

“I realized on Jemma’s twenty-first birthday that Fitz cared about Jemma just as much as I do. Well, a little more, cause I don’t particularly want to make out with her. Much. Our little Braveheart started a bar brawl to defend her drunken honor.” 

Jemma throws her head back in a laugh that temporarily transfixes her fiancé. 

“But I really knew they were meant to be together when Jemma called me from the bathroom at work the day they finally got together. I don’t even know if Fitz has heard this, so sorry for spilling the beans, Jem. Anyway, they’re walking in the park to go on a picnic, but, y’know, just as friends,” Skye says with an exaggerated eye roll that gets another big laugh. “Then he looks over at her and smiles, and this nerd thinks he’s so damn handsome that she trips over thin air and falls flat on her face.” 

Fitz’s head whips to the side to stare at Jemma, who chugs at her champagne with red cheeks. 

“Seriously?!” he yelps. She nods bashfully and he swoops in to kiss her, hands framing her face. 

“Hey!” Skye interrupts. “C’mon, you two, break it up.” 

Fitz debates telling her to screw off so that he can make out with his adorable bride-to-be, but decides Jemma probably wouldn’t like that. 

“People always tell you to marry your best friend, and I think all those people are referring to Fitz and Jemma. They’ve been partners in every way since we moved in to our dorm, and I couldn’t be happier to stand up with them as they become partners for the rest of their lives. To FitzSimmons!” 

Everyone echoes her sentiments and clinks their glasses together. Over the din, he meets Jemma’s hazel eyes and feels a sudden surge of gratitude for all the scrapes and bruises that brought them here.


End file.
